


A Mile in his Shoes

by tisfan



Series: Imagine Tony and Bucky 2016/2017 [14]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Fantastic Four, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Embarrassment, Fetish, Foot Fetish, JARVIS is sneaky, M/M, Manicures & Pedicures, Semi-Public Sex, Shame, Shoe Kink, The Captain is a good boy, Tony isn't always shameless, yes I know Jarvis and Vizh are the same person but I was bored
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-09-30 13:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10163882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: How about tony having that one kink that is considered to be really weird (or fucked up) and not good at all by people, and tony has always been embarrassed about it, never told ANYONE and hides it all the time. When the team has a discussion about sex and kinks in general it comes up and Tony doesnt want anyone to know so he is also like "jesus, how can anyone like that" but bucky just takes one look at his boyfriend and KNOWS. Tony is absolutely mortified when Bucky asks him about it later.can i ask for one where tony has a super embarassing kink that turns him on like crazy, he's really ashamed of it, bucky figures it out and tony can't stop blushing and can't meet his eyes either





	1. Getting off on the Wrong Foot

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I toned this down from what the original anons requested, because I can’t bring myself to kink-shame anyone, for pretty much anything. **Your Kink is Not My Kink, but Your Kink is OK.** Tony’s kinda a shameless hedonist, not averse to much of anything where pursuit of pleasure is the goal; so I gave the whole “afraid to ask for what he needs” a bit of a different reason. I hope you enjoy it anyway, and get into Kinky!Tony finally getting what he wants.
> 
> This whole fic is really, really smutty and there’s no separating the sex from the lack of plot, so you should probably not read this anyplace sensitive, like work. (I confess tho, this author has TOTALLY read really dirty smut while in a church. Also, while in a middle school. Because this author is desperately shameless, too.)

It wasn’t Bucky’s fault.

Tony Stark was a really good showman; he could put on a front and make someone believe anything he wanted. He wasn’t quite as good at Tash. She could make herself believe something; she lived it, right up until she shrugged out of her skin and became someone else.

And Bucky had spent the last seventy-odd years being brainwashed, memory wiped, and stored in cryo-freeze when he wasn’t being sent out to kill people he didn’t know for reasons he didn’t care about.

It’s not like their sex life was boring, either. Tony was sensual, eager, hedonistic, and talented. He might go several days in a row forgetting to eat anything that didn’t come out of a blender, or forgo sleep for stupid reasons, or burn himself for trying to science on top of the whole not-eating and not-sleeping thing. But he was damn good at sex.

 _Lots of practice_ , Tony’s detractors would say with a sneer, but Bucky wasn’t one of them. He knew Tony had been with a lot of people; it didn’t bother him. Bucky had _killed_ a lot of people (including Tony’s own parents!) and if that didn’t put Tony off having a relationship with him, who was Bucky to get jealous about men and women that would never lay another hand on Tony?

(Okay, that was totally a lie. Bucky was a jealous, possessive son of a bitch and he knew it, but Tony was his now, and that was all that mattered.)

The whole thing started, as entirely too many things did, with Clint being drunk and running his mouth. It was their monthly poker night and Bucky was already cashed out because he’d had a really terrible run of cards; Thor had cleaned him out about six hands in with an epic bluff, which was okay. Bucky had taken up a perch sitting on the bar where he couldn’t see Tony’s cards (or anyone else’s because he’d been accused of signalling Tony with his eyes before, which might possibly be true.) and was bullshitting with Clint who’d taken to mocking people instead of actually concentrating on his cards.

Drunk Clint, bored Bucky, the beer flowing nicely, and of course they’d started talking about sex. Because that was what Clint did when he wanted to get people paying more attention to the conversation. Clint was very good at causing a distraction and he was a card shark of no small amount of skill -- Bucky was watching Clint’s hands while he was out because he wasn’t entirely sure that Clint wasn’t cheating. Of course, half the group could be cheating in one manner or another. Tony could count cards, even when they used two or three decks shuffled together and barely break a sweat. And one time they’d discovered that Thor wasn’t Thor at all that night, but had been replaced by his younger brother, who was working some serious illusory magic to cheat everyone.

“So, like, where’s the weirdest place you’ve had sex?” Clint posited the question, licking cheeto dust off his fingers.

Wanda threw a napkin at him from across the table. “Wipe your hands before you go touching your cards again, I don’t want your spit on me,” she groused.

“That’s not what your brother said,” Clint smirked.

Pietro buried his face in his cards, groaning. “Shut up, boyfriend,” he said.

“So, no, really, where?” Clint got back to the question at hand.

“Does on top of the washing machine count as a location, or a toy?” Sam asked.

“Yes?” Tony answered. He glanced at his cards as the bet went around to him, discarded and let Clint flick him two more cards. “Made an attempt in space once,” he said, “but I’ll point out that blood pressure is really too low in a zero-g environment for much more than messing around. Unless you’re a woman -- which I’m not -- in which case, zero-g sex is pretty good for them.”

“Are you _admitting_ to not being able to get hard, Stark?” Johnny Storm asked, incredulous. Next to him, Steve coughed, took a sip of his drink and tried gallantly (read, failed miserably) to ignore the conversation.

“ _In space_ ,” Tony said, easily enough. He looked at his cards, rolled his eyes, and folded.

Pietro glanced up at Clint, blushed so red that Bucky could see it on his scalp through that thick mop of silver hair. “In the Quinjet,” he said, talking to the table. Clint grinned, looking pleased.

“Behind enemy lines,” Steve put in.

Bucky blinked. Steve _never_ talked about his sex life. Like, ever. “With that Russian pilot?” he finally asked. He couldn’t remember the woman’s name, but she was one of the _Nochnye Vedmy_ , the Night Witches. She’d been shot down, and the Howling Commandos were close enough that they’d been sent in to extract her, if they could, as a gesture of goodwill. Someone stateside needed something from Russia, and returning one of their crazy female pilots seemed like a good bargaining chip.

That woman had been sex on legs, and Bucky’d spent two days sniffing around her heels before she’d put him in his place.

“Yeah, Irina,” Steve said. “She was a hell of a dame. Flexible, too.”

Bucky leaned over and picked up Steve’s drink. “What are you serving him, Stark?”

Steve snatched the glass back. “It’s just scotch,” he said, scowling. “What, I’m not allowed to reminisce? Seriously, that woman could spread her legs from one side of the bed to the other, I’m not going to _forget_ about her.”

“Where the hell did you find a bed behind enemy lines, Captain?” Wanda asked, stirring her own drink with a twitchy wave of her fingers.

“We borrowed the provincial mayor’s bed,” Steve said, grinning.

“Who are you, and what the hell have you done with Steve Rogers?” Bucky demanded. “The last thing I knew, you were so vanilla that you had missionary with the lights off.”

“Oh, that’s not even the least bit true,” Tash said, eying Steve over the edge of her cards. She spread her hand, listened to the collective groans and raked in the pot. Bucky wasn’t sure why anyone let her play anymore; her people reading skills were epic. “He’s got a very impressive toy collection.”

“How would you know?” Sam asked, then gaped at them as Tash and Steve slanted looks at each other that were a little more familiar than not. “Oh. My. God. Tash, you’re banging Captain America?”

Tony scoffed. “You didn’t know that? And people accuse me of being unobservant. The Captain asks for what he wants, nice and loud. He says ‘mistress,’ too. Polite. Her I don’t hear so much, but it is rude to talk with your mouth full, after all.”

Steve didn’t even blush, he just smirked. “What can I say, I like Russian women.” Bucky was _impressed_.

On the other hand, Bucky was pretty sure that Sam was going to have a heart attack and die right there on the spot.

“So, Steve’s into discipline-subservience,” Clint said. “Coulda guessed that, really. Wanda’s into public sex -- don’t think I haven’t seen you, kid, your voodoo witch queen shit don’t work on me, remember?”

Sam choked on his beer. Bucky was starting to get worried about him, really. And then -- “oh, my god! They’re not like doing it on the sofa, are they, when we’re all in the _same room_?” Because Bucky was quite certain that Wanda and Sam kept pulling a quick fade during movie night and that was just… oh, jesus, he _sat_ on that sofa. Gross.

“They flip the cushions,” Clint said. Sam threw his cards onto the table in disgust.

“You know, it’s impossible to play cards with you, Clint,” Sam complained.

“And we all know that Bucky’s into biting,” Clint continued, not listening in the slightest. “Stark looks like an advertisement for vampires are us, like ninety percent of the time.” Well, that was true; Bucky’d sort of forgotten how carried away he got, right up until the last time everyone decided to go swimming, and the Avengers had all gotten a look at Tony’s thighs.

“So what’s Tony’s thing, then?” Johnny asked. Half a dozen sets of eyes turned on Bucky, and…

_Bucky didn’t know._

He shot a quick, almost desperate look at his boyfriend. And after eight months of being together and having rather a lot of wild, loud, unashamed sex, Tony… shunted his eyes off toward the floor before summoning up his damn press smile and saying, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” And revealing his hand, which was a royal flush, which got the table swearing and throwing cards and changing the subject.

Except for Bucky, who was still sitting there in shock.

Because Tony had never asked for anything. And the way he’d looked… he had a thing. But he’d never told Bucky about it. Tony had looked… well, entirely un-Tonylike, really. Ashamed of himself.

That. That wasn’t good.

***

“Honey,” Tony said, not meeting Bucky’s gaze, “I am _happy_ with our sex life. I mean, it’s really mind-blowingly great sex, super-soldier for the win. There’s nothing else I need, but you, right here.” Tony was cheating, his fingers running up Bucky’s metal arm, the lightest brushes that gave Bucky the shivers until he was trembling with need.   

“I’m not sayin’ there’s anything wrong with what we’re doin’ now,” Bucky said, chewing his lip. “But if there’s somethin’ you want that I ain’t doing for you --”

“Nope,” Tony said, shutting that down, “can’t hear you over my libido.” He leaned in and kissed Bucky, pulling his lower lip out and nipping until Bucky was groaning into Tony’s mouth. Tony followed him down to the bed and ground up against Bucky’s thigh. The press of Tony’s cock against his thigh drove all the rest of Bucky’s thoughts clean out of his head and it wasn’t until Tony had fallen asleep, sprawled over Bucky’s chest like a kitten that Bucky realized that Tony had never answered his question.

***

The problem had never been getting Tony to talk; most of the Avengers would say getting him to _shut up_ was goddamn impossible. But in this case, Tony clammed up.

Which meant Bucky was starting to get _worried_ ; Tony was shameless. Usually. What the hell did he want that he’d be so reluctant to share? Bucky could think of a few things that Tony might want that Bucky would be pretty against; anything like swinging or partner swapping or bringing in a third partner was absolutely out. Bucky had a hard enough time controlling his jealousy when other people flirted with his boyfriend. There was absolutely no way he could watch Tony be with someone else without committing an act of violence.

Tony deflected.

He distracted.

He demurred.

But he didn’t fucking talk about it.

Finally, they’d had an annoyingly pointless discussion about it.

“No, okay,” Tony said. “We’re done talking about this. It’s not --”

“Tony, kitten, there’s nothing you could want that I’m gonna --”

“Don’t you see that it doesn’t matter?” Tony exclaimed. “You’ve built it up into this thing now, and --”

“It’s not a big thing, Tony, it’s just,” Bucky shunted his eyes to one side. “I feel like… you should be able to trust me with this.”

“See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Tony snapped. “You’ve made it into something that’s a lot bigger than it is, and now if I tell you, I won’t know if you’re doing it because you want to, or to, I don’t know, prove something.”

“You’re not gonna make me do anything I don’t want to,” Bucky scoffed, but he knew that was a lie. Whatever Hydra had done to him, they’d rooted around in Bucky’s brain often enough that there were parts of him that were just never going to heal.

“I can’t risk it,” Tony said, peering up at Bucky from under his thick lashes. “Okay? I would never --”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Bucky said, trying to draw Tony out of the little defensive curl he’d pulled into. “I love everything we do together, the way you make me feel, how good I feel when you take care of me.”

“Let it be enough, Bucky,” Tony said. “I’m not… look, I just can’t, okay? _I can’t._ It’s not you I don’t trust, it’s me.” His voice broke at that last syllable and Bucky nodded, pulling Tony into his arms and petting his hair soothingly.  

“Okay, kitten, it’s okay,” Bucky said, feeling Tony shiver under him. God damn, this had him all worked up, and fuck! Bucky wanted to know what it was, because if he could just figure it out, then Tony would know that it was okay.

***

Tash wasn’t the best person to go to for sex-life advice. She reinforced this particular sentiment by kicking Bucky’s ass thoroughly, and then using a bite on him when his back was turned.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to tell Tony why, exactly, he had an electrical burn on his ass.

***

“You didn’t seriously call me on the phone at six in the morning to get locker-room gossip about my ex-boyfriend, did you, James?”

“Sorry, Pepper.” Bucky might have been more terrified except he knew for a fact that Pepper was already awake. JARVIS would never have let him place a call if Pepper was sleeping.

***

Maria bounced the manilla envelope in her hand a few times before opening it and letting the photographs spread across her desk. She grinned, raising one.

“Nice. I can’t believe he didn’t catch you,” Maria commented. She held the photo up and Bucky had to avert his eyes. Bad enough he’d had to take the pictures, which meant a lot of sneaking around and focusing on a naked Sam Wilson (at least the guy was not shy and walked around undressed in his suite from time to time) and that was really more of Sam than Bucky wanted to see for the next couple of years.

Bucky just looked at her.

“Right. Sniper.”

She examined the rest of the photos with an appraising eye.

“You know, you could just ask him out, right?” As far as everyone knew, Wanda and Sam’s relationship was poly _and_ open. Bucky knew for damn sure that Wanda had a secondary relationship with Vihz. How that worked, with Vihz being all syntheroid and whatnot, Bucky wasn’t sure he wanted to know. But they all seemed happy and content, and that was all that was important. Besides, Bucky liked Maria; it certainly wouldn’t be a hardship seeing her over at the Tower more often.

“You know, you could find out about your boyfriend’s sexual preferences without resorting to bribing an ex SHIELD agent?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Maria gave him a sly little smile. “Happy reading.” She shoved the file over. It was… large.

***

Oh.

_Oh._

OH.


	2. Toe the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky tests Maria's information... 
> 
> And gets a happy ending...

Well, at least Bucky knew where he’d fucked up.

It wasn’t his fault, not really, except maybe as a point of clarity. When Bucky and Tony had first gotten together, Bucky was still eighty flavors of fucking jumpy. It was okay, went hand in hand with Tony’s nightmares and panic attacks. They were broken in just the right way that most of their little quirks and flaws lined up. Their crazies matched, was how Bruce had described it once.

But back in the beginning, Bucky had still been really easily startled and his reaction to a lot of things had been violence. Aside from Russian, violence was the language he knew best.

A few weeks into dating, they’d been coming at sunrise from opposite ends (Tony’d been down in the workshop all night and had already had enough caffeine to kill an elephant and Bucky had just crawled out of bed, found it missing a boyfriend, and staggered down to find the resident genius and drag him up to get some fucking sleep) and were at the kitchen table. Bucky’s metabolism had woke up enough from the twenty minutes it took to pry Tony’s soldering iron out of his hand and make him pack up the computer files, so they took a pit stop for poptarts and scrambled eggs (the extent of Tony’s cooking skills and Bucky was too grouchy about having to look at sunrise, like fucking _ever,_ to make his own breakfast.)

Bucky had been sitting at the table, just staring out the window as if glowering at it would make the big nasty yellow thing in the sky stop… radiating all over the place, when Tony had slid a socked foot up Bucky’s thigh.

Bucky hadn’t been expecting it, and his first reaction to anything that surprised him in those days was _get away_ followed by _kill it dead with fire_. (The house spider population inside the Tower had never recovered from those days, which was Just Fine With Bucky.)

On the plus side, his reactions were, actually, faster than that, and he neither ended up all the way across the room and onto the kitchen cabinets, nor did he actually knock Tony through the window with the table. What did happen was that he slapped Tony’s foot away with rather more unnecessary vigor and snapped, “Don’t fuckin’ do that!”

Bucky had assumed the shock and hurt on Tony’s face was more for the fact that Bucky assaulted him, rather than for what had been a rather brutal rejection.

God, it all made sense. The obscene budget Tony had for Pepper’s expensive footwear. The way Tony loved to go to the beach and people-watch while still not getting in trouble for wandering eyes. The one time during movie night when they’d been short a few people and rather than cuddling with Tony in his lap, Bucky had stretched out on the sofa and put his feet up on Tony’s thigh. Tony had barely watched the movie that night, and had very enthusiastically taken Bucky apart as soon as they’d made it to bed.

Bucky shredded Maria’s file, and set to work. Step one, test hypothesis.

***

Movie night again, and they were back up to full capacity on Avengers -- Tony occasionally made noises about expanding the rec-room, but honestly, it seemed like once a week tight squeezes on the sofas and chairs made everyone happier, because whenever Tony broke down and bought new furniture, they somehow ended up with guests for several weeks running until Something Bad (and usually Hulk or Thor-like) happened to the extra sofa.

Tony pulled his normal routine, sprawling over Bucky’s lap in one of the recliners. Bucky let his arms circle around Tony, one hand on his calf, the other on the arm of the chair, fingers brushing lightly against Tony’s hip. Usually during movie nights, Bucky would end up playing with Tony’s fingers or petting his hair.

This time, he let his hand drift down Tony’s leg, teasing at the cuff of his jeans, fingers brushing against the warm skin of his ankle. About twenty minutes into the movie -- and Bucky had to admit, he was paying exactly zero attention -- he slid one finger down the side of Tony’s foot, a light caress of his arch. Tony inhaled, just a little deeper than the breath before it and Bucky’s keen ears picked up an increase in heart rate.

_Jackpot._

The rest of the movie passed in a molasses time-sink of micromovements. Tony would start to relax and Bucky would move his hand, just the tiniest shift and Tony would freeze. Bucky would switch it up, went for a long stroke, up the leg, rest his hand on Tony’s hip and then all the way back down until he was cupping Tony’s foot.

By the time the credits rolled, Tony was shivering minutely, his toes curling and relaxing and when the group started the break-up process, getting up and Tash giving everyone shit about leaving their glasses on the tables, Tony rolled over in Bucky lap, and yeah, Bucky smirked at the press of Tony’s erection against his thigh.

And because Bucky was kind of a bastard that way, he let his fingers drift back up as Tony went to stand up, catching a brief, but wicked, grope along Tony’s ass that nearly knocked his boyfriend over. Tony threw a dark look, hot and full of longing, over his shoulder.

Bucky was entirely unsurprised when Tony shoved him against the elevator wall even before the doors closed behind them. Tony didn’t have the strength or leverage to lift Bucky up, the same way Bucky often manhandled his boyfriend around, but he did crowd exceptionally close. Tony wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck and drew his head down, crushing their mouths together. Bucky helped himself to a handful of Tony’s perfect ass, pulling them closer, rutting against the thigh that Tony pressed between Bucky’s legs.

By the time they hit the penthouse floor, both of them were gasping for air, punctuated by breathy little moans. Bucky nudged his boyfriend out of the elevator and walked him backward. JARVIS opened the doors for them without complaint (and without letting Tony walk into the door, which the AI had done a few times in what Tony insisted was a very primitive display of humor.)

Tony was usually talkative and teasing in bed; he made bad jokes, he praised, he begged, he made suggestions. This time he was almost silent, except for the occasional whine or groan, as he stripped both of them out of their shirts and then shoved Bucky over onto the bed.

“Somethin’ you want, kitten?” Bucky grinned, then shivered as Tony didn’t answer, licking his way down Bucky’s throat until he got to the meaty part of Bucky’s shoulder and bit down. Bucky jerked, letting his head fall back as the sharp bite skittered down his nerves.

Down, down, Tony moved down Bucky’s body, kissing every inch of skin. He sucked at Bucky’s nipple until Bucky was writhing with delight, his hands cupping the back of Tony’s head, holding him where he was. Tony reached down, jerked Bucky’s pants open roughly. He palmed over Bucky’s aching dick, even through the fabric of his drawers, it was so good. Bucky snapped his hips up to meet Tony’s hand. Tony yanked Bucky’s jeans down to his knees, the underwear going with it, and then was on him, slithering down Bucky’s body.

“Oh, Christ!” Bucky keened as Tony licked him, teased at Bucky’s cock with his tongue, slippery and wet and quick, licking like Bucky was a melting ice-cream. All of the blood in Bucky’s body rushed south, his heart beating frantically as Tony sucked him.

Tony’s lips were firm, strong, tight around Bucky’s cock as he licked, enticed, teased, drew sensation from Bucky’s body. Bucky let go of Tony’s head, clutched great handfuls of the blankets to hold himself still, trying not to thrust up into that slick wetness. There was unleashed wanton longing in Tony’s motions, the way he explored the length of Bucky’s dick with his tongue and lips and spit-glazed fingers. Tony cupped Bucky’s balls, rolled them gently, his mouth driving Bucky insane, wild and primitive. The noises coming out of Bucky’s mouth were low and needy, unrecognizable.

Blind with need, Bucky arched and squirmed against Tony, panting for air, his heart throbbing in his chest, matching time. He didn’t know how long he lay there, Tony driving his body to higher and higher heats, giving himself up wholly to the moment, to Tony’s mouth and eager hands. Bucky’s thighs clenched, calves aching as he twisted and strained against Tony’s mouth, wanting, needing. Tony’s hands went under Bucky’s ass, drawing him up, humming against Bucky’s prick, teasing, tempting.

He couldn’t help it, he thrust up, fucking up into Tony’s mouth, that slick slide everything he needed, and oh, God, Tony just took it. He opened his mouth wider; Bucky felt the delicate scrape of Tony’s teeth against the ridge of his cockhead, a little twinge of pain that just drove Bucky absolutely crazy. He was squirming, unable to keep still as Tony tormented him with that wet mouth, that tongue that danced over Bucky’s cockhead, that probed at the slit. Tony swallowed, the muscles in his throat flexing in a squeeze and Bucky groaned, threw his head back against the mattress, practically rolling backward as his hips went up, up.

Stomach clenching as sensation washed over him, Bucky’s chest heaving for air, he knew it was coming, he couldn’t resist the silken heat of Tony’s mouth on him like that, but at the same time, he’d been aching and needing for so long that his orgasm almost took him by surprise, boiling out of him. He was hot, so hot, sweat trickled down his scalp and along his back, skin blazing like a fire and pressure built inside him until he shattered with the force of a million sunbursts.

Tony swallowed, his tongue still moving over Bucky’s aching flesh, and then finally pulled off with a sinful slurp, tonguing one last time at Bucky’s slit. “Oh god.”

Before Bucky could even think to recover, Tony was on him, hand already slick with lube, pushing against his hole. The muscles there fluttered, twitched and Bucky writhed. Too much, too much, oh, god, but his legs fell apart and he canted his hips up toward those tempting fingers. Tony teased and touched and tortured, rubbing over Bucky’s hole, getting it wet and slick but not breaching, not pushing in, and Bucky whimpered.

“Oh, god, Tony, come on, come on, please,” he begged, wanting, needing that hot, hard cock in him, needing Tony’s weight on him.

Tony pressed in, one finger, slow and steady, twisted his wrist. Sent zinging bolts of sensation through Bucky’s body, tempting him open.

“Easy there, love,” Tony murmured, coming up to kiss him and Bucky chased that mouth, tasted himself on Tony’s tongue, groaning with need. Tony pushed another finger in, faster this time, scissoring out to stretch, all the while kissing and kissing and _kissing._ Bucky squirmed, trying to get Tony deeper; he could barely think, only breathe and feel and want and need.

Three now and Bucky was keening for it, begging and almost crying as Tony pressed, rubbed against his prostate, god it felt amazing, Tony was amazing, he was magnificent, he was the best thing to ever happen.

“God, look at you, sweetheart,” Tony said, his voice wrecked and Bucky realized he’d been saying everything out loud as Tony worked him, that Tony had heard everything that was in his mind and in his heart, and was ridiculously moved by it.

Bucky wanted, wanted, and oh, god, Tony finally raised up, hovering over him, so close, body slick with sweat and shaking with desire. There was a stinging burn, and then yes, there, yes, like that, as he accommodated the stretch. He canted his hips up, raising to meet Tony, to get him buried to the hilt, to take everything that Tony had to give him, because God, _he wanted it, please, now, yes, like that..._

His legs circled ‘round Tony’s hips, holding on, drawing him deeper and they moved together in an easy, slow rhythm. Bucky shuddered, deep, and pressure built in him again as Tony stroked in. He moved slow, almost too slow, a half dozen thrusts, then one hard and fast that had Bucky gasping. Tony slowed again, and Bucky found himself counting their movements, anticipating; six, seven, then two hard, right dead center of his prostate. Bucky moaned, oh, god, he knew what Tony was doing, and each time it jerked a ragged gasp of need out of him. Slow, slow, easy, then harder, until Tony was slamming into him, mercilessly fucking him right into the mattress and Bucky was all but screaming with pleasure.

Bucky couldn’t bear it any longer. He got a hand down between them, grabbed his own cock and tugged it, hard, slick, fucking his own fist, almost too rough, but so, so necessary.

“Yeah,” Tony muttered, his breath hot and moist against Bucky’s throat. “Yeah, come on, baby, come on.”

Pressure. Need. Tony moved over him, shuddering, and Bucky held on tight with his left arm, jerking himself off. Sensation built in him, more and more, a river flooding, the tide turning, the inevitability of an oncoming storm until he was swept away by it. The world shattered and cracked and splintered and Bucky was wrecked by it, rolled and tumbled and destroyed.

Tony gave a rough groan, thrust again, then shuddered over him. Tony came, crying Bucky’s name and Bucky heaved up one last time, taking the sensation for everything he could, feeling Tony’s cock twitching deep inside.

Tony lay against Bucky’s chest for a long, endless instant, panting for breath and giving little hitching moans as they slowly twisted against each other, overstimulated and raw. Tony wrapped an arm around the back of Bucky’s neck and drew him in for a deep, sweet kiss, delicious and shivery, before pulling out.

“Win-win,” Tony mumbled against Bucky’s chest and Bucky uttered a short bark of laughter, kissing Tony’s sweat-damp hair and running a soothing hand down his back.

“Are you calling for an overtime round?” Bucky wondered, sleepily. His eyes fluttered shut without his permission.

“Nope,” Tony said, faintly. “Tie game.”

***

Bucky was an assassin. He was sneaky. Part of the job.

Subtle.

It came in handy sometimes; he could go down into the workshop with cheeseburgers and instead of making a production of it, he’d just unwrap one and leave it on the counter. Rather than argue, Tony would just eat it without thinking. Score one for the genius wrangler.

Sexing his man up was easy; Bucky found Tony was generally up for a little messing around with a quick caress, a nip at his ear, or just a straight up proposition. But _seduction_ , that was different. That took finesse.

Subtlety.

Planning.

Bucky normally wore boots of one sort or another; combat or leather, that stopped mid calf and laced up. When he was growing up, his shoes were poor quality, but the Army had been pretty good about outfitting soldiers. Especially once he followed Captain America into battle, he’d always been decently shod, but the kinds of boots he wore were not made for looks.

When Tony insisted they doll up for an event, Bucky had two pairs of dress loafers, one black, one brown. He’d let Tony pick them out, since really, at the time, fashion was not a thing he was into. He’d gotten a little more involved in his own wardrobe since then, enough to know what he liked and didn’t like, and what looked good on him. (Which was only about half the stuff he liked, because as far as he was concerned, scarves looked good on exactly no one, but he got some pretty interesting reactions when he wore them, so he kept doing it. At least they were comfortable.)

Bucky thumbed through the catalog -- well, that wasn’t what he was doing, he was actually flicking his fingers over faintly glowing holographic images in the air, but it still had the feel of turning pages. Somehow.

Shoes. God, too many choices. How did people in the future ever even decide what kind of soup they liked, much less what they wanted to wear? Bucky had previously just given JARVIS his sizes and told him “I need three casual outfits, and one formal thing, you know my colors,” and went on with his life, just picking up and wearing whatever JARVIS assigned him. He’d tag things as “more like this” and “not this kind of shirt, ever ever again, no.”

“Hey, J?”

“Yes, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky rolled his tongue around in his mouth, cautious. JARVIS could often be a lot of help, and he had some sort of code about discretion, but he was also very protective of Tony, and sometimes that could manifest in strange ways.

Finally, he decided to just go for it. “If I say somethin’ stupid and get your theoretically britches in a bunch about Tony, will you tell me first, before you tell him?”

“That seems a reasonable request,” JARVIS said, which wasn’t a yes, but was probably as good as he was going to get.

“Okay, then,” Bucky said, flipping at the catalog again. “I want… I want to look nice, for Tony. Not my taste, but his. What you think he’d like to see me in.” Bucky chewed his lip until the faint taste of blood seeped onto his tongue. “Especially in the matter of shoes.” That was as close as Bucky was willing to get; if there was anything about Tony that JARVIS didn’t know, Bucky would eat his hat, but at the same time, the AI did not just give that information out.

  
JARVIS made a little not-quite-sound. Bucky’s heard them before; they were the AI’s versions of shrugs or eyerolls or flattening out of lips that he didn’t have. “I believe I might have some suggestions, Mr. Barnes.”


	3. Iron Manicure/Pedicure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets over his masculinity issues...
> 
> and they have a LOT of sex.

The shoes were a hit in a way Bucky never expected, and if there was anything he could buy as a thank you gift for JARVIS, he could. What could an AI possibly want? Bucky didn’t know, and didn’t really want to ask Tony, because Tony would want to know _why_ , and then where would they be?

They weren’t particularly comfortable shoes; just a little too small (and he absolutely could not wear socks and those shoes at the same time) and weirdly pinchy at the heel, which turned out to be exactly why they were perfect for what Bucky’s doing.

The way the shoe was formed, Bucky found himself sliding them mostly off whenever he was sitting for any length of time, just letting the toe of the shoe hang off his foot, which showed off his bare heels and the arch.

And Tony _stared_.

It was familiar, somehow, the way Tony was watching him.

Like when Bucky was a teenager, and the way he would stare at a girl who was showing off something she didn’t mean to -- a curve of neckline that dipped a bit too low, or the smooth rise of thigh because her skirt had gotten hiked up and she hadn’t noticed. Or maybe, Bucky grinned to himself, she was doing exactly what she _meant_ to be doing. Drawing Bucky’s eye the same way Bucky was now encouraging Tony’s stare.

Once he knew that, Bucky was able to take advantage. The ankle-bracelet was a genius addition. Just a simple braid of black leather with a red star charm, it was weird for about the first hour he wore it, and then it just blended into the background, but Tony noticed it. He noticed and his eyes widened and he licked his lips without even being aware he was doing it.

Because Bucky was wearing shoes without socks more, ones that he could kick off easily, he started sitting differently. (You didn’t need to hear Steve yelling about getting your shoes off the damn furniture more than once before boots stayed on the fucking floor, yes, Captain Rogers, sir.) Going barefoot meant he could curl up, his feet tucked under Tony’s thigh for warmth.

From looking, it wasn’t a far stretch to touching, because it was Tony and Tony was utterly incapable of resisting temptation, and apparently, Bucky’s feet were something he couldn’t resist. Which was a little awkward, because Bucky was insanely ticklish, and whenever Tony had run an exploratory finger down the arch of Bucky’s foot, Bucky had squeaked and it had taken a serious amount of willpower not to jerk away.

The first time Tony pressed his thumb really hard under the ball of Bucky’s foot, that was interesting. Because that pressure point apparently relieved about 70 years worth of tension in one go and Bucky found himself sprawled out with his feet in Tony’s lap, practically crying from relief as Tony rubbed his feet. Oh, god, somewhere in that first foot rub, he figured out exactly why Tony was _interested_.

Somewhere in there -- Bucky had to admit, he didn’t realize exactly how loud he was being -- Tash stormed into the room with her “they’re blowing each other in the common room” face on, stopped dead, stared at them, and then backed away like she was seeing something a lot more intimate than sex.

By the time Tony had finished with him, Bucky never wanted to have sex less in his entire life, but only because he was completely boneless and relaxed and a puddle of Bucky-flavored goo on the sofa. Never moving sounded absolutely divine, and he’d have cut a bitch to get someone to feed him, rather than getting up. Unfortunately, super-soldier metabolism didn’t lend itself to being lazily hand fed. When he and Steve needed to eat, they kinda hoovered it up, so he groaned and rolled off the sofa.

“You’ve _ruined_ me, Tony,” Bucky said, absently, face-first on the floor because his arms didn’t work at all when he rolled. “I’m dead, just bury me.”

“Walk it off, Freezerburn,” Tony said, nudging Bucky’s hip with his foot. “Up, up.”

“Nope,” Bucky said. It was nice carpet. Really. He could lay here all night and be perfectly fine. “Never moving again.” Which would have been a good plan, a really good plan, except that he was starving. Ugggg. Life was unfair. Bucky pushed himself up onto his knees and discovered Tony sprawled out on the sofa, legs spread to an obscenely wide angle, dick making a very obvious tent in his pants.

Tash had already stormed in, thinking they were up to something naughty. She wasn’t likely to come in a second time that night. Probably. Bucky decided he’d risk it. Bucky allowed his mouth to slip into his filthiest, most suggestive smirk, and reached for Tony’s fly.

“I thought you weren’t up for it,” Tony teased. “Even if I am.” He arched into Bucky’s touch, dick half bent to one side and probably painfully constricted under his slacks. (Tony’s slacks were never slack, they were specifically tailored to show his perfect ass off to the world.)

“I want to,” Bucky said, and suddenly, he really, really did. God, Tony made him crazy in all the best ways. “We’ll just go slow and easy. I can do all the work; you just lay there.”

“You offer up a bargain so good that I can’t resist,” Tony said.

The zipper went down with a silken purr and Bucky tugged until Tony’s pants were around his thighs -- they were in the common room, and Tash was fierce about people not getting bodily fluids on the sofa, but hey, Bucky could swallow, that was _fine_. Tony was hard, already leaking precome, his boxer-briefs were sticky with it and Bucky got a welcoming jolt of interest from his own dick. Nothing urgent, but there, perking up, saying _hey, can I join the party_?

Closing his fingers around Tony’s cock, he massaged the long, thick length. Tony’s skin felt like silk stretched over iron. Using the ball of his thumb, Bucky rubbed circles along the broad tip, spreading precome around. Tony groaned and Bucky leaned forward, quick, capturing the sound in his mouth, muffling Tony’s cries.

In response to Bucky’s hand, Tony exhaled hard and flexed his hips so he pressed against Bucky’s palm, while his tongue flicked into Bucky’s mouth, tasting and teasing.

Bucky wasn’t always good with words; he was a hard man and he’d had a hard life. It was rare for him to whisper tenderness during an intimate moment -- he tended more toward curses and demands to be fucked now, please -- but he meant it. Meant _I love you_ with every kiss, meant _I want you_ with every touch. He told Tony everything that was in his heart and the depth of emotion behind every thought, with his hands, with the strokes of his tongue and the motions of his hips. With the way he pushed in, invaded Tony’s personal space, branded him as Bucky’s.

He used his hand to bring Tony up to the edge, never stopping kissing him the whole time, used his lips as a muzzle and his tongue as a gag, kept Tony’s cries and pleas as a low whimper. He made love to Tony thoroughly as he knew how with his mouth until Tony was writhing frantically under him, eyes rolled back in his head, hips permanently arched off the sofa.

When Tony was close, very close, Bucky switched; he moved his hand off Tony’s dick (this earned him a muffled whine that cramped his stomach with desire) and dropped his mouth.

“Oh, god, oh, god, oh god,” Tony whimpered, trying to keep his voice down, and then he surged up as Bucky took him into his mouth, licking frantically at Tony’s cock, sucking the head into his mouth and swirling his tongue around like Tony was the most delectable sweet.

It didn’t take much longer before Tony was clenching both hands in Bucky’s hair, thighs quivering, and then -- Tony’s climax took over, spurting into Bucky’s mouth, hot, salt and bitter, thick. Bucky swallowed, swallowed again. Tony watched him without blinking, without hardly even breathing, stroking the side of Bucky’s jaw as Tony gave him everything he had. Bucky swallowed a third time, then leaned back and licked Tony clean of everything he’d missed, until his boyfriend was a shivering, shaking, destroyed wreck poorly disguised as a man.

Gently, Bucky tucked Tony back into his clothes and zipped him up. “Come on, kitten,” he said, pulling Tony to his feet. “Let’s go upstairs. You can order me a pizza, and then I’m gonna fuck you stupid.”

***

“You two are so girly,” Tash accused, dropping into her favorite rocker.

Bucky didn’t look away from what he was doing; flipping Tash off was one of those things he was just so skilled at that it didn’t take any effort. “You’re just jealous.”

He tipped his head, studying his work, then dipped the brush into the color again.

Steve came into the room, carrying Tash’s tea in one hand. “She might be,” Steve said, glancing down.

Tony’s foot was in Bucky’s lap, toes spread wide. Bucky bent his head and dabbed the polish brush against Tony’s nail, depositing a glittery drop of gold paint. He spread it carefully, pushing the paint all the way back to the nail bed.

The first time he’d painted Tony’s toenails, Bucky’d felt weird and self-conscious about it. They’d stayed in the penthouse and Tony had rather considerately worn socks for several days around everyone else until he’d removed the polish about a week later. Bucky was raised in a totally different time, and Tash was right. In the 40’s it would have been girly as fuck. Except that he was already _fucking_ Tony, so what difference did it make? His masculinity wasn’t that fragile.

When Tony had gone barefoot, brilliant red polish on his toenails, the only one who’d said anything about it at all was Sam, and what Sam had said was “cute look, Stark,” with that little gap-toothed smirk.

“So make your good boy to do your nails,” Tony suggested, gesturing to the caddy of polishes that he and Bucky had acquired. “He’s an artist; I bet he could do really awesome nail art.”

Tash’s eyes widened and then she was riffling through the polishes, picking colors. Steve put her teacup down on the table and sat on the floor at Tash’s feet.

“You got any detail brushes in there?” Steve asked.

Half an hour later, Tash had her feet up, admiring the bouquets of flowers (and tiny butterflies) that Steve had painted on her toes, and Pietro was thrusting a bottle of silver and purple sparkled polish at Clint, who was rolling his eyes, but perfectly willing to decorate his boyfriend as well.

***

Before Tony, sex had always been something of a game for Bucky. He loved the heat of passion, the excuse for touching and soaking in the sensations of another person, and while he’d desperately needed the release, he hadn’t been much for commitment. He’d always thought he’d have time for that, _later_. He’d go off to war and when he came home, he’d find a girl and settle. That had been the plan, and look how well that had worked out for him.

As the Winter Soldier, he’d had no sex drive, no need for passion or compassion. Which was probably good; he didn’t like to think what Hydra might have used him for if he’d been capable of getting an erection.

As a soldier, during the war, Bucky had always been good to go, man or woman, some slick heated action, a bit of a cuddle, and then he was on his merry way, without ever looking back. Sex was fun, it was easy, it was forgettable.

Now, Bucky was stricken by the depths of his emotions whenever he looked at Tony. Aching desire raged in him, almost all the time, and even when he was too raw and drained for the physical activity, he wanted to touch, stroke, hold and be held by. His need became a raw, feral force that drove the beating of his heart, the pulse of his blood. He ran one thumb lightly over Tony’s ankle. The tattoo, a simple thing, black letters against Tony’s golden skin, spelled out Bucky’s name in looping script. Marked Tony irrevocably as Bucky’s.

The tattoo was newly healed, still a little red around the edges, but it was the most beautiful thing Bucky’d ever seen, aside from the man himself. Bucky dragged himself up Tony’s body, took brutal possession of Tony’s mouth. Kissing Tony just drove his searing lust higher, desperately needed to slake it. He rubbed himself against Tony’s thigh, felt the press of Tony’s skin against his cock.

A shudder rippled through Tony’s body and the kiss grew deeper, filthy, as Bucky licked his way into Tony’s mouth, stole the air from his chest. He twined his fingers with Tony’s and forced his hands into the mattress, bearing down on him. Tony pulled their mouths apart, panted for breath. “Come on, come on,” he said, “I need you, soldier.”

Bucky’s hunger spiked, and he claimed Tony’s mouth again for one more kiss, and then another, because Bucky was selfish and he’d always need one more. When they finally broke apart, Tony pressed his face against Bucky’s neck, deposited soft baby kisses against his throat, behind his ear, the gesture both affectionate and submissive that it touched deep into his chest, an animal, savage satisfaction.

Bucky slid down, kissing, licking his way down Tony’s body, tasting those plump, pink nipples until Tony was whimpering, his back a perfect curve off the mattress. The musical, silvery sound of his gasps sent shivers down Bucky’s spine and he kept at it, abusing the sensitive flesh by nipping and rubbing his stubble against Tony’s chest. Bucky loved Tony’s nipples, so tender. He sucked the pebbled skin into his mouth, worked the tip with his tongue. He pulled back, blew cool air over the teased surface, watching Tony squirm and writhe under his ministrations.

Bucky moved again, leaving Tony bare and exposed, kneeling between Tony’s legs. Bucky feasted on Tony’s body with his gaze, devouring him with a few sweeping looks. God, Tony was perfect, so fucking glorious that Bucky had to press his hand against his chest, his heart was beating so hard.

Careful, gentle, he ran both hands down Tony’s legs, fingers drawing trails of sensation. He drew Tony’s feet into his lap, stoked the pads of his fingers over Tony’s arches. Tony hissed, stretched, his belly tightening.

It had taken a while to get to this point, but Bucky did notice; Tony had beautiful feet. His foot was long and narrow through the ball, his toes were straight and graceful, the arch high. Bucky reached around behind him, patting at the bedclothes until he found the bottle of lube. Without taking his eyes off Tony, Bucky lubed himself up and then pressed the ball of Tony’s foot against Bucky’s cock.

Tony almost jerked back, eyes widening. “What are --”

Bucky gave Tony a hot, sultry look from under his lashes, his hair hanging in curtains on either side of his face, an expression that rarely failed to get him what he wanted. “You’re gonna get me off,” Bucky said, tracing one finger down the arch of Tony’s foot, eliciting a groan and a full body shiver, “and I am --” he stretched Tony’s other leg out, lowered his mouth and licked a wet stripe across Tony’s big toe “-- gonna do this.”

Tony arched back, hips thrusting up. His luscious cock, dark and hard, spurted a few dribbles of precome that rolled slowly down the side. “Oh, god.”

“That sounds good to you,” Bucky said, chuckled darkly. He licked again, stroking the underside of Tony’s toes with his tongue.

“You got _no_ idea,” Tony gasped. He flexed both feet, the toes in Bucky’s mouth curling with a quick spasm. Perfect.

Bucky licked and suckled, watching Tony writhe and shiver. His other foot worked over Bucky’s cock, sliding along the skin there, a delicious tease. Tony nudged at the base of Bucky’s cock, then spread his toes wide, looping one on either side of Bucky’s dick and sliding up, slow and torturous.

“Oh, Christ.” Bucky pushed into it. He knew Tony was flexible, but that was crazy-good, how slick and tight the grip was, but so narrow, it wasn’t enough, but god, so _sweet_. Bucky couldn’t help himself, he rocked against that grip. He lowered one hand to his own cock, pressed the broad head against Tony’s soft arch before letting Tony take over the pace again.

He nibbled on Tony’s toes, swept a broad stripe down the arch, nibbled at Tony’s heel. Tony moaned, twisted.

“God, don’t stop,” Tony pleaded, lowering his hand to stroke himself, working his dick with one hand while Bucky watched him, eyes fever hot. Bucky had no plans to stop, his tongue flicking over the beautiful, sensitive skin. Tony bared his teeth as Bucky nipped at his ankle, then gasped as Bucky suckled at each toe, one at a time.

Tony worked his cock a few more times, then, “gimme the lube,” he whined, holding his hand out. Bucky tossed it to him, expecting him to lube up his cock, but instead Tony wet his fingers and reached down to finger himself open while Bucky stared in desperate longing.

Tony moaned, wanton and needy, pushing his fingers in, two knuckles deep. He tossed his head from side to side, so fucking gorgeous. Bucky jerked, hips thrusting against the press of Tony’s foot on his dick, slick and soft and, oh, _Jesus_ , that was good, so good.

When Tony was spread, wide, his hole gaping and puffy, waiting and wanting to be filled, Bucky couldn’t resist any longer. He surged forward and pushed Tony’s thighs apart and back. He lined himself up and rubbed his cockhead against Tony’s pulsing, fluttering hole, wet with lube and hot as hades. God, Tony was like an open fire, so warm and so needy. The urge to be inside Tony was unbearable, undeniable.

Bucky hooked one of Tony’s legs over his shoulder and pushed himself in, sliding home with slow, deliberate grace until he bottomed out. Bucky took hold of Tony’s ankle, the one branded with Bucky’s name and pressed a kiss against the arch as he rocked back. He kept his hand on Tony’s ankle, thumb pressed against his toes, the whole time, fucking soft and easy, enjoying the tight clench, the heat and wet and delicious friction.

The noises Tony made were open and honest and filthy and obscene, each wicked syllable falling on Bucky’s eager ears like kisses.

Tony clenched, twisting his hips sinfully, urging a moan from Bucky’s throat. He couldn’t help but speed up, fucking into Tony hard and fast, lining them up, hitting Tony’s prostate with unrelenting urgency. Bucky pinned Tony down, hips flexing swift and steady as Tony tilted up into every thrust. Making love vanished into a desperate, animal rut. Bucky needed, _needed_ , oh, God. It wasn’t enough, it could never be enough.

“I want --” Tony started, then stopping, chewing at his lip. His entire body flushed, dark rose against gold, and God he was fucking beautiful.

“What do you want, kitten?” Bucky didn’t slow, couldn’t, God, he just… Tony felt so good, so damn good, and it was so much.

Tony swallowed, his eyes wide and vulnerable and needy. “I want you to come on my toes.”

 _Oh, God_. The way Tony’s voice sounded, utterly wrecked, exposed and defenseless, like he expected Bucky to reject him out of hand.

“Yeah, kitten,” Bucky said. He thrust into Tony again, taking as much as he could, driving himself right up to the edge with delicious friction, exquisite heat, then pulled out, groaning with the sudden rush of cool air on his skin.

Tony pushed back, both feet curling around Bucky’s cock and Bucky pressed Tony’s soles together, creating a little pocket of soft skin to thrust into, hard, fast. Each time Tony flexed his toes, Bucky moaned, God, it was better than he could have imagined; the crinkles on the arches provided a gratifying tease and sooner than he could have known, taut fire build up in his balls and he spurted out, thick streams of come lacing Tony’s toes and smearing across his soles.

Bucky shuddered and shook through his orgasm. “Fuuuuuck.”

“Uh-huh,” Tony agreed, one hand still tugging furiously at his own cock and Bucky shoved Tony’s thighs apart again, nosing at Tony’s balls and then licking up his cock, tasting the salt of precome. He worked three fingers into Tony’s hole, still wet and stretched.

Tony screamed, shivering, as Bucky curled his fingers up, pressing hard at Tony’s prostate, not gentle or teasing, but ruthlessly driving him toward his release. Bucky opened his mouth and took Tony in to the hilt, sucking and licking and tasting.

“Oh, god, oh, fuck, oh… _Bucky_.”

Bucky was merciless, ravaging Tony’s body, taking and tormenting. Tony’s hand were in Bucky’s hair, yanking and sending shivers of brilliant, beautiful pain across Bucky’s scalp. Tony babbled incoherently, encouraging, pleading, _begging_ , and then his spine curved and contracted, heaving up under Bucky’s punishing hands and wicked mouth. Tony cried out again, then spurted hot come straight down Bucky’s throat.

Bucky couldn’t hold it all, couldn’t swallow fast enough, and Tony’s come leaked down his chin and throat, leaving Bucky feeling messy and somehow obscenely satisfied. He wiped his cheek against Tony’s thigh and drew his fingers out of Tony’s hole. Tony shuddered and made a face.

“I’d like to file a complaint with the designer,” Tony said, the tone of voice meaning absolutely everything except what he was actually saying. “Post-coital wet is uncomfortable.”

“Don’t blame me,” Bucky said. “I didn’t invent it, I just take advantage of the system, darlin’.”

He wiped his chin off, a little self-consciously. Bucky pulled himself up to snuggle against Tony’s shoulder, dragging the blankets up to cover them as they both shivered as sex-heat seeped away, leaving them sweaty and chilled.

“You are the best,” Tony said, muffled, his mouth against Bucky’s neck, “best, best, _best_.”

“Everything you need,” Bucky agreed.

“More than I deserve,” Tony said, “but I couldn’t give you up for anything. You’re mine, and I’m keeping you.”

“Yours, Tony,” Bucky said, gently. “Love you, so much.”

  
Tony twined their fingers together, heedless of the sticky aftermath of their labors. “Love you, too. All the way down to my toes.”


End file.
